Desperate Acts of Comfort Seeking
by Igorina
Summary: In the face of toe curling parentally inflicted embarrassment, Albus Severus Potter and Scorpius Malfoy find themselves turning to each other for comfort. A series of ficlets featuring Albus Severus x Scorpius, Harry x Draco and Ginny x Goyle x Pansy.
1. Bonding Under Stress

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters of settings to be found herein.

A/N: The first of the ficlets in this series was originally written shortly after DH came out (because with a pairing monikers like AS/S how could I resist?). Scopius and Albus Severus (how those names make me giggle still) are aged seventeen in this first ficlet/chapter and eighteen in all subsequent ficlets/chapters.

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As Albus Severus Potter saw the whole dreadful, sordid, humiliating scene playing out on the screen of battered old Muggle television set, about the only thing he could take comfort in was the fact that Scorpius was looking even more traumatised than he felt.

He wasn't quite sure why his dad had invited the insufferable Scorpius and his infamous father to their house. Nor was he sure why he'd been instructed to 'keep him company' whilst his father and Draco 'did very important grow-up things' upstairs. After all, it wasn't as though he and the Malfoy brat were friends or anything. Quite the reverse, in fact. Since being sorted into Slytherin five and a half years ago, Albus had been forced to endure a daily barrage of trying-to-be-cutting remarks courtesy of the boy currently sitting next to him of the sofa.

Still, as the cameras panned from the _Rockfest 2021_ crowds to Gregory Goyle, frontman of the notorious – and functionally illiterate – heavy metal outfit known as _Goil_(1), he couldn't help but feel a bond growing between them.

It was nothing so noble as camaraderie or admirable as compassion. No, it was more the kind of desperate empathy that's liable to develop upon seeing ones' respective mothers decked out in t-shirts bearing the logo _Get Some Goil In Me_ and attempting to shove their way to the front of the stage.

Onscreen, Gregory Goyle took the microphone, eyes misted over with what might have been sadness, but could just as easily have been the after effects of a five hour fairy dust snorting binge.

_I wrote this song for an old mate of mine from school who was killed in a fire. It's called 'Tits Out For The Antichrist'. I wrote it cos his mum always used to say that she thought he had to be the Antichrist and… and, he liked tits too._

The crowd cheered.

_This one's for you Vince._

The first, very loud chord was struck as the former Slytherin began to relentlessly attack the song.

The crowd went wild as the cameras panned to Ginny and Pansy… who seemed to be intent on following the song's rather explicit instructions and shedding their outer garments in the name of the late Vincent Crabbe.

Albus wondered if it was possible to die of embarrassment.

"It's…." Scorpius trailed off, clearly too distressed to think properly.

"I know," said Albus, reaching almost unconsciously for his term-time tormentor's hand.

From upstairs came the sound of a dull thud followed by a loud and rather desperate groan followed a sharp _'for fuck's sake Potter use fucking a silencing charm'_.

Scorpius shook his head and began to assert a desperate death grip on Albus's fingers. "It's even worse than the time I caught dad reading _The Erotic Adventures of Rimulus: Volume Six_."

-----

(1) Formerly _All Hale Saytun_.


	2. Desperate Acts of Comfort Seeking

A/N: Spot the inevitable Weiss Kreuz and Metalocalyse references.

Update 19/02/2008: I've just noticed that a huge chunk of the drabble and formatting had gone missing in the last version of this ficlet I posted here. Hopefully this chapter should make more sense now.

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Albus sensed as soon as Scorpius stormed into the Slytherin Seventh Year boy's dormitory, face puffy from what the Malfoy heir would doubtless strenously deny was a prolonged bout of crying, that something was very _very_ wrong.

This sense of very _very_ wrongness was magnified a hundred fold when Scorpius launched himself at the nearest bed and started furiously punching the covers.

"Are you all right?" asked Albus, not quite sure whether to be relieved or worried that there was currently nobody else around.

"What does it bloody well look like," snarled Scorpius.

"Er…. It looks like you're trying to beat the shit out of Jeremy Nott's mattress."

Scorpius gave him a look that was clearly supposed to be withering, but came across more as stroppy and upset.

Albus sighed. "What's wrong, Scorpius?"

Scorpius removed himself from Nott's bed and walked over to Albus's where he proceeded to thrust a torn bit of newspaper at his housemate and occasional not-quite-friend.

"Look at this!"

Taking the crumpled paper from Scorpius's hand, he unfolded it and proceeded to blanch slightly as he read the title of the article out loud. "_Gregory Goyle: The Man, The Myth, The Metal Legend…._ Oh no, mum's not done something else publicly embarrassing at one of his concerts, has she?"

"It's worse than that," said Scorpius. "Much worse. Keep reading."

Now, feeling distinctly worried, Albus read on.

_**So Gregory, last month you performed with Muggle hip hop star Big D during his 'Fucking Up Suburbia' rap/rock fusion concert. This seems more than a little at odds with the strongly anti-Muggle sentiments you had in your youth.**_

_Well, it's like this. When I was a kid I didn't know that Muggles could be just as hard core as us. But that changed when I met this Muggle bloke called Jei when I was visiting Vince's grave and… well, let's just say that I've haven't met many wizards who could cause the sheer amount of mayhem and destruction that he could. You could say it was one of them epiphiwatsits And let's face it, when it comes to metal the magic world's got The Weird Sisters the Muggles have got Dethklok. I mean, can you me another wizard who's anywhere near as metal as Nathan Explosion? No didn't think you could. And that's what it's all about in the end, that's what it's all about._

_**Speaking of Vincent, a lot of fans were surprised when you dedicated the album 'Feel The Deathstick Within' to 'Pan and Gin' rather than him. Is this a sign that you're finally coming to terms with the loss of your friend?**_

_I don't reckon that I'll really come to terms with not having my old mate Vince around. But I decided to dedicate this particular album to my two favourite ladies 'cos of the rough time they've been having ever since they found out that their husbands – who are just NOT metal – were playing the odd game of 'Rimulus and Reamus' together behind their backs. I mean…._

Blanching further, Albus tore his eyes away from the horrible thing and looked at Scorpius, who seemed to have derived some mild relief from sharing the pain.

"I told you it was worse," he said, taking back the cutting.

"How could they, Scorpius?" said Albus, desperately hoping against hope that none of the other students at Hogwarts read Muggle Metal Monthly. "How could our parents humiliate us like this?"

Scorpius shrugged, eyes beginning to look dangerously moist. "I don't know, Albus. But… but they have and… and…."

Without warning Scorpius flung himself bodily at the still-supine Albus and proceeded to bury to bury his head in the crook of his housemates neck.

For a few brief moments Albus was too startled to move. However, as Scorpius began to stroke and nuzzle in his desperate comfort-seeking efforts, he gradually came to the conclusion that if this was one of the side-effects of their parents' mutual mid-life crises then he might just be willing to endure the embarrassment.


	3. HurtComfort and How to Engineer It

A/N: The instalment in which Albus Severus proves himself to be a natural born Slytherin.

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Albus looked at the book he'd just left on Scorpius's bed and immediately felt a pre-emptive surge of guilt.

Albus knew that what he was doing was bad, manipulative and morally unjustifiable.

He also knew however how nice it had felt to have Scorpius seeking comfort in his arms after the other young man had discovered, by way of full colour spread in _Magical Marks Mania_ that his mother now had the _Goil_ logo irremovably tattooed on her right buttock. How pleasant it had been when his distraught housemate had pinned in to the wall and rubbed against him in that thoroughly distracting manner, after coming across that vicious and totally untrue(1) rumour about their fathers, which had appeared in Rita Skeeter's new gossip column in _Scandal Rag Fortnightly_.

Thus, despite his guilt and self reproach he found himself retreating to his own bed at the other side of the dormitory and envisioning just what sort of comforting Scorpius might need after he'd read the blurb on the back of _Gregory Goyle: The Tell All Unauthorised Autobiography_.

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(1)Well, mostly untrue. Albus was worldly enough to realise that things of a not quite family friendly nature had gone on between his dad and Draco in that Gladrags Wizardwear changing room, but he was pretty damned certain that Nifflers hadn't been involved in any capacity.


	4. It Shouldn't Happen to a Slytherin

A/N: Yet another ficlet in which horrific parental embarrassment is inflicted upon poor Albus Severus and Scorpius. Ten points to Slytherin for anybody who can identify the nefarious new divination tutor.

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As the entire Seventh Year population stood outside the second floor classroom Albus Severus couldn't help but feel a tad restless. It had been a gruelling day so far: with advanced charms followed by double potions followed by a heated argument with Jeremy Nott at lunchtime over whose turn it was to look after the new house mascot (a genial albino python called Ermintrude whom Albus's dad had liberated from a Muggle pet shop and donated to Slytherin House) that week. All he really wanted to do was head back to the common room and curl up with a copy of the Quibbler, but the special, surprise class on Muggle Wizard relations was compulsory.

"Well, this is going to be a waste of time," grumbled Scorpius, who looked even more agitated than Albus felt. A fact that was perfectly understandable given that he had just been given a week's worth of pre-emptive detentions by Professor Crawford, the new and deeply disconcerting Divination teacher, for an act of gross indecency he was apparently going to commit sometime during the next couple of hours.

There was a general murmur of assent from his fellow Slytherins.

"I still can't believe they're making us all do Muggle studies this year," said Jocasta Zabini. "You'd think that that talk they did in our first year where they told us that hexing Muggles for fun was bad would be good enough. I mean, what the hell do we need to know about electricity for? It's not as if any of us are squibs."

There was another murmur of assent from the Slytherins.

Not from Albus though. He rather enjoyed going to his Granddad Weasley's and playing with the vintage Playstation 3 he kept in the shed (though he was under strict instructions not to mention this item to Grandma Weasley).

On overhearing Jocasta's comment, Rose Weasley, who was standing with two of her fellow Ravenclaws gave and audible tut and muttered something about pure blood myopia. To Albus's relief however Jocasta didn't respond. The last thing he needed was his cousin and his second best friend going to war again.

After what felt like an age of waiting, the classroom doors swung opened and the jaded students began to filter into the large and rather dusty room, where Scorpius steered Albus towards a desk near the back.

As the class settled down Professor Scrabble, the latest Muggle Studies tutor, stepped out in front of the blackboard and beamed. "Now class," he said, "I know that it's been a long day and that you're all probably itching to get back to your common rooms, but we felt that it was very important that you Seventh Years came here today to listen the speaker who's come to visit us. You see, it's easy for me to talk about Wizard Muggle relations and why we shouldn't look down upon our non-magical neighbours. After all, neither of my parents are magical. But there are many people in the magical world who grow up without ever meeting a Muggle or who are taught from birth that people who don't have the ability to do magic have less value than those who do. So here with us today is a man who was brought up to despise anybody who wasn't a pure blood, but who has overcome this prejudice to become one of the most successful musicians in both the Muggle and Magical worlds. I'd therefore like you all to give a very warm welcome to our very special guest…."

Albus felt a pang of nausea start to blossom in his stomach. Surely Hogwarts wouldn't allow somebody like… like….

"…Gregory Goyle."

_Oh god please no._

There was an explosion accompanied by an eruption of bright red smoke from the direction of the door, which was followed by a burst of extremely loud and violent sounding guitar music.

The class collectively gasped as the smoke faded to reveal a large man decked out in faded jeans, biker boots and a leather jacket with the cobra's head studded on the back along with the words ROCKING IT FOR VINCE, walked into the room along with two women, one red-head and one brunette, in spray-on leather trousers and T-shirts bearing the motto _Goil's Gals_.

For several moments a hushed reverence settled over the class as the magical world's first metal legend stood before them, flanked by his two most devout followers.

It was Danielle Malkin of Ravenclaw who eventually broke the silence.

"Hey Rose, isn't that your auntie and Scorpius's mum?"

Albus felt the colour drain from his face.

When Ginny Potter spotted her son and waved cheerfully at him, he thought he was about to die of humiliation. Indeed, had Scorpius not chosen that moment to grab hold of him and drag him out of the door, there was a very real possibility that this would have come to pass.

"Scorpius, what the hell are you doing?" he demanded, as his housemate and sort-of-almost-but-not-quite boyfriend dragged him into a quiet alcove and frantically began to grind against him.

"What do you think I'm doing?" snapped Scorpius.

"Er… well, it feels like you're trying to hump me silly," said Albus, who was torn between giving in letting Scorpius rub, kiss and lick away the horror or their mothers turning up at school like… like fanatical rock groupies and pointing out that they were standing in front of a temporarily vacated portrait.

"Good guess, Potter," said Scorpius, starting to undo the buttons on his trousers.

Albus knew that he should protest, or at least insist that they move to somewhere a little more discreet, but as soon as the other young man's soft lips began to brush against his neck all thoughts of resistance quickly faded away.

Faded away that was, until the sound of a man loudly and irritably clearing his throat permeated the haze of lust that was beginning to engulf him.

His eyes immediately snapped to the portrait, which was now filled with the visage of a pallid man with a large nose, greasy black hair and a sardonic expression.

"Ah, Mr. Malfoy, I was told I find you here. I've been instructed to remind you that you're expected in the divination classroom and five o'clock prompt… Oh, and bring Mr. Potter along too. Those crystal balls won't polish themselves."


	5. A Fate Worse than Cruciatus

A/N: Big thank you to everybody who reviewed the ficlets in this series.

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Albus Severus Potter wanted to die.

He could take the detentions with Professor Crawford. He could take James's disgust and Lily's sniggers. He could take Uncle Ron's perfectly serious suggestion that he be carted off to St. Mungo's as the earliest possible opportunity owing to his 'obvious mental problem'. He could even take the obscene song about him and Scorpius that Collette Creevey had made up in double potions and proceeded to teach to the entire Seventh Year Hufflepuff and Gryffindor contingent (though this particular sting had been somewhat blunted by the deeply embarrassing 'Itchius Genitalius' hexes that Jocasta Zabini had started to visit on anybody she overheard singing the nasty little ditty).

He could not however take _this_.

It was one thing to stand humiliated and disgraced in from of his peers, teachers, parents and all manner of vague acquaintances and complete strangers who enjoyed taking a prurient interest in the private and personal humiliation of others (in other words, 98 of the population of wizarding Britain).

It was however quite another to be subjected to the concerned face of Aunt Hermione.

She'd started with the utterly excruciating: _"Now I want you to know that it's perfectly natural for young men of your age to have certain feelings... even if they are directed towards somebody as inappropriate as Scorpius Malfoy."_ Followed up with the thoroughly painful: _"However, it's one thing to have these feelings and quite another to act on them in a school corridor, in front of one of the paintings."_ Before unleashing the dreaded: _"Now have you been taking precautions?"_

At this Albus was unable to keep himself from giving a traumatised squeak. It was bad enough listening to his loving yet oh so serious and proper aunt say words like 'sexuality', 'arousal' and 'orgasm', but being probed for details about his... his... _intimate activities_ with Scorpius by her was downright mortifying.

"Well, we, er... we tried not to get caught by only...er, _doing stuff_ when we were sure nobody was watching, but that didn't work because of the pictures... Though you wouldn't have thought that they'd be interested in, you know, hanging around that part of the castle where we got caught. I mean there's not much to see down there. Well, apart from maybe me and Scorpius that is, though they shouldn't be going around trying to watch people doing things like that." He knew he was babbling, but he was incapable of a measured and coherent response.

Aunt Hermione gave an exasperated sigh. It was the kind of sigh that he more usually associated with her reaction to Hugo's annual school reports.

"I didn't mean that. Though discretion is obviously something you've yet to learn. What I meant was: are you protecting yourselves against STH's?"

"STH's?"

"Sexually Transmitted Hexes. You must have heard about them. And let's not forget the male pregnancy epidemic that's going around at the moment."

Albus gaped. "Male pregnancy epidemic?"

She gave another sigh, obviously distress at the apparent woeful ignorance of today's magical youth towards current events. "Surely you read last month's Daily Prophet article about the rogue spell that escaped from the Experimental Charms Department at the Ministry?"

"I think I heard Eric Thomas in year five say something about Marvin Welling from the Department of Miscellaneous Paperwork expecting twins. But I thought that he was joking."

Shaking her head, Aunt Hermione fixed him with a stern yet maternal gaze. "I see we've got an awful lot to discuss. I was supposed to be meeting with the treasurer of the House Elf Outreach program in two and a half hours, but I don't think he'll mind me cancelling just this once."

Giving another strangled squeak his looked at the floor. _Two and half hours_. Two and a half hours of the woman who'd knitted him little hats and sweaters as a baby lecturing him about the most private details of his relationship with the Malfoy heir.

He just hoped that Scorpius was being subjected to a similar ordeal. He didn't want to feel that he was suffering alone.


	6. The Mortification of Scorpius

A/N: Yet another crack ficlet in the series. I should probably warn that this instalment contains references to MPreg (though don't worry, neither Albus Severus, Scorpius, Harry nor Draco is a victim of this most distressing epidemic).

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If Scorpius Malfoy had to choose one word to describe his current mental state it would have been 'traumatised'.

If he had to choose two they'd be 'deeply traumatised'.

It was bad enough that his father had given him that talk on the virtues of discretion.

It was worse still that Lucius Malfoy had taken it upon himself to lecture his grandson on the correct way for a male of the Malfoy line to conduct an '_illicit and shameful relationship with a filthy blood traitor_'.

_"A Malfoy heir must be dominant and in all things,"_ his obviously deranged grandfather had declared, thumping his cane on the ground for emphasis. _"He must command the situation. Exact the highest standards. To give any ground is to show weakness, and we must not be weak, Scorpius. Dally with that Potter boy all you will, but you must not bring shame on us by submitting to him."_

Scopius wasn't quite sure how being 'dominant in all things' was supposed to relate to the frenzied and rather inelegant fumbling that had been going on between him and Albus; and he knew that he would be eternally grateful to his grandmother for rescuing him before the Malfoy elder had a chance to elaborate on the point.

However, the utter mortification _that_ episode had induced paled into insignificance when compared to _this_. It had all clearly been his mother's idea. He knew that it must have been.

Nobody else would have let Gregory Goyle and his pale, eye-patch wearing Muggle companion into the grounds.

"Alright, Scorpius," said the bulky rock legend, whose appalling affect on the previously respectable(1) Pansy Malfoy and Ginny Potter had been responsible for driving him and Albus into each other's arms in the first place. "Your mum reckoned that me and Jei here should have a chat with you about stuff. You know men to man and all that."

A large section of the Hogwarts population would have given their right arm to be in this kind of proximity to the pioneer of Magical Metal, but Scorpius himself was unable to do anything but freeze in horror at the man's presence. He wished Albus was there too. He also wished that he didn't wish Albus was there. It was bad enough that, after almost six years of unfairly tormenting his fellow Slytherin, he had come to the conclusion that his resentment of the boy had been a consequence of a) the Potter-obsession he'd unwittingly inherited from his father; b) jealousy at just how well liked the boy was by their fellow Slytherins; and c) a very guilty kind of infatuation. But to actually want him here to comfort him? Well, he was more than certain that Grandfather Lucius would have a fit if could read Scorpius's mind right now.

"Now, got to say that I prefer girls myself," Goyle continued. "My love for men has always been purely tectonic."

"Tectonic?"

"He means platonic," supplied Goyle's odd-looking accomplice, in an Irish accent.

"Yeah, platonic, that's it. But there's no reason why you can't be one of them homosexuals and still be dead metal. I mean, look at Jei here." He gestured at the pale man. "He's a bi, but you don't see him going around being a big girly wuss."

As if to lend credence to this statement 'Jei', who was now leaning casually against a priceless eight-hundred year old statue of one of the Malfoy forbears, idly took a wicked looking knife from his pocket and gave it a lick.

"What I'm trying to say, is that there's being a homosexual, which is fine – even if I don't get how anyone could turn down a nice pair of knockers, especially if they've got something dead metal tattooed on them – and there's being a homosexual that goes around getting married and playing 'spank the serpent' with Potter behind his wife's back and then denying it and trying to pretend that all that noise was really them trying to subdue an invisible Manticore."

"But I'm not married," Scopius protested, deep affrontedness briefly eclipsing the toe-curling embarrassment of the situation. "I'm only eighteen. And I'd never use 'invisible Manticore's' as an excuse for anything. That'd be stupid."

"I'm just saying that it's not right, that's all," said Goyle. "I even wrote a song about it once called _Heaven's Blessed Slime_. It was on the album _Dead Sith Moshing_. 'Course, _Demons of the Flesh_, _Psycho Snorkack_ and _Ministry Meltdown_ are the tracks everyone members from that one. Well, them and Smeagol's guitar solo. What was it he called it?"

"Ode to Mangled Hobbitses," Jei supplied.

"Yeah, that's the one. Alright riff, but it wasn't nowhere near as good as he reckoned it was. Of course, you give him one little criticism and he goes and seals himself in Samara's well. And she was dead miffed about it too: which is understandable because it meant that she was late for a whole bunch of her appointments."

Scorpius relaxed for a moment, believing that the worst was over and the world's second most inarticulate heavy metal front man was going to start droning on about Goil's intra-band conflicts.

Alas, his relief proved premature.

"Anyway, like I said your mum though I should have a word with you about that whole safe sex thing. And I know all about it, 'cos you wouldn't believe the things that me and guys have picked up over the years, and some of them were dead unpleasant. I mean, even Jei here was shocked by the affect that a few of them had. So, take it from me, it's better to be safe than to worry about bits dropping off. "

There were some mental images that even a trying-to-be-worldly-and-sophisticated eighteen year old Slytherin just doesn't want in his head. Unfortunately, Scorpius was cursed with a very visual imagination. It was testament to his fortitude that he didn't instantaneously eject the contents of his stomach onto the sitting room floor.

"Then there's this whole male pregnancy epidemic what's going round at the moment. Scary stuff. Men just aren't built to do certain thing. I mean, you think to yourself, where the hell would it come out?"

"I could think of two possibilities," said Jei, helpfully. "One involves knives, the other—"

"I get the picture," snapped a now very queasy Scorpius. Jei might have been one of the most intimidating individuals he'd ever seen, but he was willing to risk his wrath to prevent _that_ mental image from being expanded upon.

"Of course," said Goyle, thoughtfully, "if you did get yourself of Potter's brat knocked up, I'd be happy to help you think of some good names. I mean, for a boy Maul would be good: very solid, very brutal."

"Personally, I'd go for something more _Biblical_," said Jei, a frightening grin lighting up his face. "Cain or Judas or maybe even Mammon... although I suppose that you wouldn't want to be seen as one of those really pushy parents who want their kid to rule the world. I mean, personally I'd be happy for them just to destroy it."

"Yeah," assented Goyle, "something that says 'I'm metal' but ain't going to be too much pressure. Now, for a girl on the other hand you need a name that says 'cross me and my vengeance on the universe will be dark, brutal and creative': so I'd go for Alessa or Sadako."

This was really all too much for Scorpius. "Look, I don't know what my mother said to you but I'm not about to go and get pregnant."

"Well," said Goyle. "It's not so much your mum that though you were about to get Potter's kid up the duff, as Mr. Crawford."

"You mean, Professor Crawford, our divination teacher?"

Jei nodded. "Aye, you should think yourself lucky that he saw fit to have us let you know that he foresaw it."

"Yeah, what was it he said again, Jei: _You won't believe this Schuldig, but that deranged Weasley Woman's son is going to be impregnated at half time during the Chudley Cannons game tomorrow afternoon._"

"Yeah, but he said it with more of a smirk."

Scorpius scowled. "That's impossible. For one thing Albus isn't the least bit interested in Quidditch, much less the Chudley Cannons. For another, I know for a fact that he's promised to be at Zabini's party tomorrow."

He didn't bother to try and fend off the note of bitterness that crept into his voice at the fact he himself wasn't on the guest list. Despite his father and grandfathers repeated instructions to try and ingratiate himself into the company of Blaise's only child, Jocasta had never really taken to him. Albus on the other hand become fast friends with the Zabini heiress within minutes of setting foot on the Hogwarts Express, after he saved the life of her beloved pet cat. From that point onwards he had become the brother she'd never had, and any slight against Albus had become a declaration of war against Jocasta; and there had been many a time that Scorpius had found his little tricks and taunts paid back threefold. She'd started to warm to him lately, ever since he and Albus had started seeking comfort with each other in the face of their shared humiliation, but not enough for him to receive an invitation to her father's birthday party.

"Yes, but plans can change," said Jei.

Scorpius rolled his eyes. "Look, I'm telling you, Albus promised to go and he doesn't go back on his word unless it's an emergency. And I hardly think that attending a crappy, bottom of the league Quidditch match is going to count as urgent in his mind. Besides, you just said that Professor Crawford foresaw some 'demented Weasley woman's son' getting knocked-up. It doesn't mean that it has to be Albus."

"It can't be that James," said Goyle. "He's in Mungos with Octarine Fever."

Jei looked thoughtful for a few moments. "How many 'demented Weasley women' are there exactly? Bearing in mind that Crawford's definition of demented isn't the same as mine."

"Apart from Albus's mother who's a Potter, there are five Mrs. Weasley's that I know of," said Scorpius, cautiously glad that the conversation was shifting away from him and onto other members of Albus's extended family. "I've no idea how many of them are demented though."

"So it's not going to be one of Gin's kids," said Goyle, cheerfully. "She'll be dead relieved when I tell her. She wanted me to have a talk with Albus too, but now it looks like I won't have to."

As, to Scorpius's infinite relief, the wizarding world's first and only rock idol, and deeply unsettling friend, bid their goodbyes (with Goyle giving one final admonishment to 'keep it metal'), the Malfoy heir's thoughts turned to the other male members of the Weasley family.

His lips quirked upwards.

Hugo, Fred and Louis had always given Scorpius a hard time and he couldn't help but feel a sadistic spark of glee at the thought of one of them finding himself in such a humiliation situation.

The only questions was: to tell Albus, or not to tell Albus?

(1) At least as far as the two young men knew. Draco had kept him in the dark about Pansy's brief flirtation with the Church of Magicology and its founder Gilderoy Lockheart (who'd since changed his name to N. Ron. Hubble) in the early years of their marriage, while Harry and the rest of extended Weasley clan had never had the heart to tell Albus and his siblings about the dramatic effect that one too many glasses of Starlight Sherry could have on their mother.


	7. A Great Miscalculation

A/N: Here I go again. As with this last ficlet this one contains references to MPreg (though, once again, don't worry, neither Albus Severus, Scorpius, Harry nor Draco is a victim of this most distressing epidemic).

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"Jocasta Desdemona Zabini, this is not a laughing matter!"

Scorpius wasn't the least bit surprised when these sternly spoken words failed to have any impact whatsoever on the mirth-filled face on the other side of the floo. Truth be told, he was still fighting the urge to break into paroxysms of laughter himself.

"Oh, come on, Scorpius," she said. "It'll be hilarious to see one of Gryffindor's Golden Weasley Boys turn into Mr. Mummy, especially after all the times they've gone on about Slytherin's moral decrepitude. Besides, I'm almost certain that Louis the Louse fed poor Mortimer a Puking Pastille last month." Her mouth twisted into a snarl. "Cat abusers deserve everything they get."

There was a good deal of truth in the statement (though he was pretty certain that 'moral decrepitude' wasn't a phrase any of the Weasley boys were capable of pronouncing, let alone utilising in everyday speech). However, there was also another fact that Scorpius felt obligated to mention.

"Albus will be really pissed off if it happens and he finds out that we knew but didn't tell him," he said. As incomprehensible as it was to Scorpius, he knew that Albus loved all the members of his family, even when they made less than kind remarks about his sorting. He knew that Jocasta knew it too. "And he'll be angrier at you than me. Your his best friend— Well, joint best friend with Anakin Krum, at least. I'm just his..." He paused, not quite certain how to classify himself in relation to Albus.

"His boyfriend?" Jocasta suggested.

"NO! Not boyfriend. Not exactly anyway, it's more that we just... you know..."

"Have sex in corridors," she supplied.

"That's none of your business."

The expression on the girl's face indicated that she disagreed with this statement on a very fundamental level (Jocasta had never truly succeeded in grasping the idea that other people's private lives should be regarded as... well, private); however, she did not seem eager to start a debate on the subject.

"Okay," she said eventually. "The way I see it, we can't tell Albus, because then he'll insist on going to the Chudley Cannon's game to stop it from happening. And I'm sure that we're both well read enough to know that if he does _that_ then the universe will inevitably conspire to have _him_ be the one in trouble."

"What, you mean Grimm's Seventh Percept of Narrative Causality?" he said(1). "I could just choose to stay at home that day. I mean, if I'm not there..."

He trailed off as Jocasta raised an eyebrow. It was the kind of raised eyebrow that commented on the shameful naivety of today's young male Slytherins.

Scorpius frowned, very disconcerted that his immediate reaction to the thought of somebody else knocking up Albus, was even more gut-churningly upsetting the thought of himself being the one responsible. "He not a slut, you know."

"Of course, I know that," snapped Jocasta, obviously annoyed that she could be perceived as indirectly impugning on Albus's virtue. "But this is narrative causality we're talking about. What if somebody polyjuiced themselves to look like you, or... or... slipped him some kind of high impact Amortentia."

For half a second Scorpius contemplated this possibility. "All right," he said. "We've got to do everything in our power short of mass murder possible to keep Albus away from that Quidditch Match. Even if it means he'll be angry at us later."

She nodded, the air of casual contempt she usually projected around Scorpius seeming to suddenly dissipate. "The way I see it," she said thoughtfully. "If Goyle's told Ginny Potter about Professor Crawford's vision, she's bound to pass on the warning to the rest of the family. In fact, if her past behaviour is anything to on, I imagine she's at Professor Crawford's house right now threatening to hex the living daylights out of him if he doesn't cough up the details on the complete vision."

"So you mean that we aren't going to be hearing the pitter-patter of tiny Gryffindor feet anytime soon?" Scorpius experienced a flood of relief and tinged with mild disappointment (Hugo and Louis had both gone even more out of their way to humiliate him since his... _thing_ with Albus had become public knowledge).

"I think that all three of them are going to be watched like hawks from now on," she said, lips curving into a rather evil little grin.

Scorpius considered this for a moment. "What you mean, no more Weasley Triad stomping gracelessly around the halls at night, spoiling everything for those of us who were sneaking about quietly."

She nodded.

"No more Weasley Triad buggering about with Slytherin property?"

"No more Weasley Triad buggering about with anything," she corrected. "Albus is always telling me about how strict his Aunt Angelina and Aunt Hermione are. And he said that Fleur Weasley's been thinking of withdrawing the Louse from school and tutoring him at home ever since he got caught stealing Professor Sinistra's knickers. She's apparently got the impression that Hogwarts is a hotbed of ill-disciplined perversion... I think that they must be more into disciplined perversion at Beauxbaton. At least, that's what my friend Xin Chang tells me in her letters: and she says she's got photographs to prove it."

"She has?" said Scorpius, intrigued despite himself.

"Of course, I don't go around making this stuff up you know," she said, looking affronted. "In fact she's going to be at Daddy's party tomorrow, so you can ask to see them yourself."

"I'm not invited," he coldly pointed out.

She quirked her head to the side as if puzzled by this statement. "Of course you are," she said firmly. "You're coming with Albus."

-0-

At twenty-five minutes past four, on the Wednesday afternoon that marked Blaise Zabini's life entering its forty-third year, three young Slytherins strode through the enormous magical menagerie that the man had had constructed for his only – and, in Scorpius's considered opinion, rather disgustingly spoilt – child. Outside, in the gardens, the party was still in full swing, but as Scorpius was still recovering from the shock of seeing Xin Chang's photographs, Albus and Jocasta had felt it prudent to temporarily remove him to a quieter locale.

He had been somewhat disgruntled to note that Albus wasn't the least bit startled by the snapshots of the more exotic side of seventh year life at Beauxbaton. Said disgruntlement had however vanished, when, shortly afterwards, he'd caught sight of the sundial next the ornamental lake, and realised that the Chudley Cannon's game would have finished quarter of an hour ago.

"You've been quiet today, Al," said Jocasta, as she crouched down to pet a large, ape-like creature that looked to Scorpius as though it might be a particularly tame juvenile demiguise. He didn't ask though. It was an acknowledged fact that if you got Jocasta Zabini onto the subject of one of her animals she'd never shut up.

"Oh, I'm just tired," he said. "The rest of the family went down with Octarine Fever last night, and I had to get them all to Saint Mungo's."

"You should have said something earlier?" admonished Jocasta. "Will they be okay?"

Albus nodded. "Yeah, it's nowhere near as severe as the dose you and me had in the fourth year. And if James's recovery is anything to go by, they'll all be driving the medics mad and clamouring to leave by the end of the week."

"My father's dreadful when he's ill," said Scorpius, enjoying the relaxed camaraderie that had seemed to have settled between them as the day had worn on. "Mother says that he's the only person she knows who can get a mild dose of the sniffles and manage to turn it into a life threatening case of Dragon Pox."

The other two laughed.

"My dad's the opposite," said Jocasta. "He seems to think that seeking professional magical treatment is a sign of weakness – unless it's an unsightly illness, of course. Cho told me that when she was working as his assistant there was this one time where he started to hallucinate that his accountant was a rabid Manticore. It turned out that he'd been bitten by a Mallow Whisp three weeks earlier and just cast a few basic healing charms on it. Mind you, I remember that when I had Octarine Fever I was convinced that Professor Longbottom was trying to poison me."

Albus smiled. "Yeah, the Healer at Saint Mungo's says that a lot of people suffer from temporary delusions with it. I didn't, but Mum had to be put in an enchanted sleep for the night after she started babbling something about me having to tell Auntie Hermione that Hugo was going to get pregnant in the middle of a Quidditch match."

He gave an amused snort and shook his head. "I bet Uncle Ron will have a good laugh at that one when I go and see them tonight."

-0-0-0-0-

(1) See D. Von Uberwald's _Deux ex Machina and How to Abuse Them_ Chapter 5: "Ten indicators that the author of your reality is a right bitch", for further discussion on this and other phenomena.


	8. A Foreboding Start

**A Foreboding Start**

A/N: Once again, this instalment contains references to the dreaded MPreg plague. However, as always, none of the main characters are thusly afflicted.

-0-

"So, er... how's your Cousin Hugo?"

Albus tore his gaze from the scenery zipping past the carriage window and turned to roll his eyes at Scorpius. It was an exaggerated show of exasperation, but he felt that it was warranted.

"Well?" Jocasta prompted.

"He's fine," said Albus. "No sign of the MPreg Syndrome at all. And in all the cases documented so far the symptoms have started to show within a fortnight." He snorted. "I still can't believe that you two bought that story. I mean, it's Professor Crawford for God's sake. He's always had a really twisted sense of humour."

Amused, he shook his head. After Scorpius and Jocasta had finally cracked and told him about their divination tutor's prediction, Albus had been understandably angry that they'd known about a potential threat to a member of his family and failed to tell him about it. However, he was also a) secretly rather touched by Scorpius's desire to protect him from the dreaded plague at all cost; and b) certain that their divination tutor had – as usual – been deliberately misleading in the way he'd presented his latest prophesy. From what Albus had observed over the last year it seemed that Professor Crawford was the type of irritating bastard who never lied about his visions (that were, despite Aunt Hermione's protestations that divination hardly ever worked, often worrying accurate), but took great smugness in people's misinterpretation of his words.

"But your mother seemed worried about it," pointed out Scorpius.

Albus gave a sigh. "She was coming down with Octarine Fever at the time, Scorpius. It obviously impaired her judgement."

He fought the treacherous urge to add a _'more than usual'_ to the end of that statement. His mother might have a Gregory Goyle sized gap in her capacity for reason and good sense; but she was still his mother and Albus loved her very much.

"Anyway," he continued. "Hugo's even more stridently heterosexual than James is. When Crawford said something about him getting impregnated at the Chudley Cannon's game he probably just meant that he was going to pick up some kind of parasitic infection."

Scorpius's expression seemed to indicate that he was simultaneously relieved and disappointed by this – in Albus's opinion at least – very probable scenario. Albus was almost tempted to call him on the disappointment. However, he knew that Hugo and the other two boys who formed what had been dubbed the 'Weasley Triad' _had_ gone out of his way to make Scorpius's life as difficult as possible ever since they'd found out about his, well, sort-of-but-not-quite romantic relationship with Albus.

"Do you think it might be Doxy eggs?" said Jocasta hopefully. "I remember when Cynthia Montague got a batch laid under her skin. It was so disgusting the way they burst out of her arm in Double Potions like that. I mean, she practically exploded."

Jocasta's dislike of the Weasley Triad was also rather well documented. Anybody who caused harm or distress to the elderly black and white cat who was currently dozing on her lap tended to be automatically placed on her list of 'Irredeemable scum who ought to be sentenced to life in Azkaban'.

"I don't know," he said, nose wrinkling in disgust as he recalled the scene in question. "Look, do you mind if we change the subject. The thought of Hugo in maternity robes is disturbing enough without adding explosive sub-dermal Doxy hatching to the mix."

"All right then," said Scorpius, also visibly nauseated by the rather graphic mental images Jocasta's little recollection produced. "What about this idiotic idea Professor Scrabble's had then."

"You mean _Muggle Work Experience Week_?" Albus made a face. While he shared some of his granddad's interest in Muggle artefacts and enjoyed the occasional trips he and his father made to the cinema, he didn't relish the thought of spending a week 'gaining a greater insight in what goes on in the Muggle workplace'. Especially given all sixth and seventh year students who couldn't arrange their own placements were to be sent to the _Yummy Scrummy Fruit Burst_ bubblegum factory. It was all right for Hugo and Rose who could just go and visit their grandparents at their dental surgery. But Albus had seen enough television to know that spending five days on a production line was more likely to lead to catatonia than cultural enlightenment.

"Father's furious about it," said Scorpius. "He tried to complain to the Ministry, of course, but he's been banned from the building ever since he called the Secretary for Magical Health and Safety a 'Centaur sucking knob guzzler'." As the young man's pale face flushed red at the memory of what had quite obviously been a deeply humiliating experience for his younger self, Albus fought the urge to reach over and comfort him. He didn't think that Scorpius would appreciate such an intimate gesture, especially with Jocasta in the compartment.

There was also the fact that Albus _had_ been rather cruel to him about it when it happened. He'd found it all very funny at the time, what with Scorpius having made several unflattering comments about Albus's father's lack of social graces the previous week, but right now he couldn't help but feel a bit guilty about the whole thing.

"Daddy was annoyed about it too," said Jocasta. "But he's in talks with Voltage Advertising that week in his capacity as Goil's manager, so he says that I can come with him."

"Why's your dad going to a Muggle advertising agency?" asked Albus, slightly perplexed. He'd heard Voltage Advertising mentioned on the Muggle news a few times. As far as he could tell the company was infamous for its willingness to go far beyond the limits of taste and decency when pushing its client's products.

"They're trying to hire Goil to do another promotion for Zablosky's Vodka," she explained. "It's ten years since the _Pure Enough for the Dark Side_ campaign and they want to do a sort of anniversary thing. Daddy doesn't like the idea, because it brings back memories of Stan Shunpike's accident and the Cursed Video Debacle, but Gregory Goyle and the rest of the band are dead set on doing it."

Scorpius's brow furrowed. "Cursed Video Debacle?"

"You know _'In Seven Days you're going to die unless you buy a Stan Shunpike: 2Metal2Live memorial t-shirt'_. The one that Kingsley Shacklebolt had banned from Flooview under an emergency order."

Scorpius and Albus looked at each other with nonplussed expressions before simultaneously shaking their head.

"I'm surprised you don't remember it, Albus," she said. "Your father was really angry about it at the time. He and Gregory had a massive fight in the middle of a Muggle library. Daddy said that they would have destroyed the entire building if the orang-utan and Jedi Master hadn't intervened, but Cho says that Daddy was under an awful lot of pressure at the time, so he might not be remembering that bit quite accurately. I do know that Daddy made all the band members sign magically binding behavioural contracts afterwards though."

Albus didn't remember anything about his father being involved in any kind of fight with Gregory Goyle, but he did have a dim recollection of his seven year old self and siblings being whisked off on an impromptu trip to visit Auntie Fleur's family shortly after something called the _Starlight Sherry Incident_ occurred. Nobody had ever told him the details of this event, but he got the distinct impression that it was something that might have made the front page of the Prophet.

"Anyway," Jocasta continued. "I asked Daddy if it would be okay for you two to come along too and he said yes. Well, he said no at first, but when I started to look sad he changed his mind."

"I can't believe you can still get away with that one," Scorpius muttered. "It hasn't worked for me since I was five."

"I'm an only child whose mother ran off to become a Magicologist when I was five," she said with a smug smile. "Daddy's been trying to make up for it ever since."

Albus had long know that she was perfectly aware of exactly how incredibly spoilt she was. Albus also knew that one day she was probably going to get a nasty shock when she realised that the world at large wasn't going to be as indulgent as Blaise Zabini. He loved his friend and her near-fanatical loyalty(1) with all his heart, he really did, but – as a distinctly non-spoilt middle child – he couldn't help but feel that a realisation that the universe did not exclusively revolve around Planet Jocasta was a long time coming.

"Goil won't be there, will they?" asked Scorpius, clearly not relishing the thought. Albus couldn't blame him. The 'talk' he'd experienced at the hands of the band's infamous front man had quite obviously been a deeply excruciating experience.

"Probably. It's their promotion, after all. But if you don't want to interact with them you don't have too. Daddy says he'll get the company director to let us hang around in one of the spare rooms." She gave a shrug. "It's up to you: Goil or _Yummy Scrummy Fruit Burst_."

Uncertain how to respond, Albus looked at Scorpius, who also seemed to be torn between the two rather unappealing alternatives.

Before they could come to any kind of consensus however, the compartment door was flung open by a small Gryffindor girl with dark brown skin and Weasley-red hair.

"Hello Roxy," said Albus, rather surprised to see his youngest cousin wandering around without Lizzie Fortescue and Maximilian Briggs.

"Hi Al. Hi Jocasta," she said, giving them a friendly wave.

Jocasta waved back. Despite her antipathy towards Fred Weasley II and deep suspicion of Gryffindors in general, she didn't seem to mind Roxanne, who – while more of an owl lover than a cat person – was always very kind to Mortimer.

"Do any of you have any custard?" she asked.

"Custard?" Albus's brow furrowed.

She gave a vigorous nod, clearly of the mind that she'd been tasked with a very important mission. "Hugo said to come and ask you if you've got any."

"What does he want it for?" asked Albus, suspiciously. He knew that a fair few of Fred, Louis and Hugo's less pleasant prank routines involved the substance, but he couldn't help but feel that using innocent, guileless little Roxanne to obtain it was a rather low thing to do.

She wrinkled her nose. "He says he wants to spread it on his pickle and honeycomb sandwich."

Albus gaped. "He what?"

"Wants to spread the custard on his pickle and honeycomb sandwich," she repeated. "I said that it was horrible and disgusting, but he said that it's what he really, really, really wants to eat. So I said that I'd go and find some for him."

Albus pulled a face.

So did Scorpius.

Jocasta's eyes widened. "Roxanne," she said. "He hasn't been ill or anything lately has he?"

Roxanne gave another nod. "He was sick this morning and yesterday morning. Rose says that he should go and see Madam Pomfrey when we get back to Hogwarts."

"I think she's probably right," said Jocasta.

Was it not for the sudden feeling of horror that assailed him, Albus would have marked this occasion down as the first time that Jocasta Zabini had ever voluntarily and non-grudgingly agreed with something Rose Weasley said.

"Er, I don't think any of us have got any," said Albus, reaching into his pocket and taking out a few Sickles. "But why don't you take these and get some from the trolley lady... Get yourself something as well."

"Thanks Al," she said, beaming as she took the money. "See you later everyone."

"Bye Roxy."

"Bye, bye."

With a backwards wave and a happy grin Roxanne sped off; determine to successfully complete her quest for the custard.

Albus looked first at Jocasta and then at Scorpius. Both of their expressions could be described as 'uncomfortably stunned'.

"It could just be a reaction to the Doxies," he said hopefully.

-0-0-

(1) During one late night conversation during the Fourth year, she had confessed to him that the Sorting Hat had originally wanted to put her in Hufflepuff. He was sworn to secrecy, of course. She'd told him that if the truth were ever made public knowledge she'd feel honour bound to commit Seppuku with her potion's knife.


End file.
